Be Brave Sweet Prince
by Aleim
Summary: If you have a girlfriend who dumped you, a father who verbally abused you, or an unruly lover, welcome to Dalton: Reform School for Troubled Youth


Discalimer: I do not own Glee.

The picture of those boys as hoodlums was to tempting. Not one of my favs but it has been weighing on my mind. Figured I'd let it see the sunlight for a while.

Please Review.

-break-

"David. I robbed a bank. Don't laugh."

Kurt blinked at the only black man in there discussion/therapy group at Dalton Reform. If he snickered, no one commented.

"Jon. I hacked into FOX news and destroyed millions of files."

The bulkiest of them spoke next and Kurt had heard about that. FOX had shut down for two days trying to restore those files.

"Nick. I ran my car into my ex girlfriends house. Killed her."

Vengeful. Nice.

"Jeff. Stole someone's credit card and ran it to the ground."

Kurt had thought about it before but these days that shit was easy to track.

"Blaine. Beat my father within an inch of his life. I'm not willing to give the reason."

Either he felt bad for what he did or he didn't want to waste time hearing about how sick he was. Anyway, he wouldn't be hearing much from Kurt anyway.

"Kurt," their instructor (coughparoleofficercough) spoke up when the silence lapped to long for his liking.

"Kurt. I stabbed a guy to death."

The blond one, Jeff, whistled and some others looked mildly shocked. Kurt wasn't a very muscular boy; but what he lacked in muscle, he reveled, was made up in sheer determination to destroy. He held his face in its almost constant poker stance as he listened to the rest of what his parole officer had to say.

-break-

When they were let go Kurt made haste to his dorm room, a single, since he was labeled to unstable to be around anyone without supervision when he heard a few guys hiss. "Better watch out, the fag will get you in the butt," one told his companions. Kurt ignored them until he got around the corner and slipped out the homemade stabbing mechanism he'd made just for this occasion. He watch as the guys were split up by a officer patrolling the hallways and cheered knowing the one who called him "fag" was coming straight for him.

It lasted barely seconds. The sharp device was thrust into the man's side and pulled out and in once again before there were arms pulling him back and officers on the man who looked ready to smash Kurt's face in. Kurt smirked, happy with the small amount of blood on the device as a nurse removed it from the man's side.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," a familiar voice caught his ears and Kurt turned to see the Blaine boy from earlier holding him back. There were a few parole officers running from the other end of the hall to them.

"Figured he like a bleeding side more than being fucked in the ass," he screamed towards the man who snarled back at him and Kurt was pulled into handcuffs and away from Blaine. Kurt met eyes with Blaine and he felt a connection. They both had crazy eyes and he could see that Blaine wanted a piece of the action. Maybe the black haired boy just had a better anger management teacher; Kurt felt happy for the boy, his old one sucked.

-break-

Kurt rested his head against his hand at the chat box, phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder, listening to his dad rant after having read over the report of his progress from that week. "You stabbed a man Kurt," Burt sighed closing the file. "I love you Kurt, but this-you're not even trying."

"They're the ones not trying Dad," Kurt retorted, "I'd be perfectly happy letting them fulfill a dull less life if they refrain from calling me such names."

Burt shook his head, "Kurt, you're in there because you lost touch with society."

"Way to quote the shrink dad," Kurt smiled. Burt didn't return it.

"People will always call you names no matter how much we don't like it. What happened to my baby boy who just shrugged off the insults? What happened to the boy from his sophomore year of high school, whose voice brought people to tears?"

Kurt shook his head, "he got tired of it," he said and hung up the phone before he walked away from the plexi-glass booth that had his father on the other side. Burt hung up the phone and shook his head when the parole officer asked if he wanted to have his son sit back down.

"It'd be a waste of our time," Burt told the man, "when my son's done talking, he's done." He left immediately after.

-break-

Blaine watched as the new boy in his discussion group curled up into one of the lounge chairs with a book a few seats away from everyone else. Yesterday had confirmed his suspicion of the boy being gay and also the suspicion that he was extremely unstable, the word fag had set him off. Blaine hadn't been like since he got to this place two years ago. He picked up the first book he saw and made his way over. Kurt didn't seem bothered by his presence, so he sat down in the chair next to him and opened the book. He pretended to read something about mathematics when Kurt sighed and put his own book down. "Genius' aren't known to be socially fucked up to our level you know," he called Blaine on his bluff and the boy figured he'd accept defeat.

Blaine put the book to his left and gave a small smirk to Kurt, "I'm Blaine, I mean, you already know that but I figured I'd make our introduction less forced and without our darkest secrets being forced into the open."

Kurt outstretched a hand that Blaine shook. "I'm Kurt, and be careful, the parole officers might think your making a plan with me to kill them."

"Did you attack them too?" Oh Blaine Anderson, where is your brain to mouth filter?

Kurt didn't seem fazed by the question and shook his head, "of course not. I'd be in some serious shit if I did." His eyes, Blaine noticed, retained their glass look and portrayed nothing. "I'm going to go back to reading, excuse me."

Blaine felt his cheeks flush. He looked around and found a music magazine laying crumpled a few steps away. He grabbed it then returned to his seat.

"That's more like it," Kurt told him a few minutes later, after Blaine was halfway through an article about Pete Wentz.

"I'm sorry," Blaine spoke up turning to look at Kurt; the boy was still reading.

"Your reading choice, it's correct now."

Blaine was mildly miffed, "don't think I could figure out 4=b+30?"

"-b=26"

Blaine blinked and finally caught on going over the math in his head. It was correct. "Why do you say my reading choice is correct?"

"You looked more interested in it then the math book."

"You read people," Blaine accused.

"People watch. I was a wallflower before highschool."

"Then you just became some crazy psychopath?"

Kurt smiled, an actual smile it seemed, and replied, "yup, pretty much."

-break-

_This boy screams bad Hummel. You don't want to put down another unruly lover do you?_

-break-

"**Will you listen to me for two seconds," Dave screamed at him, pinning him against the lockers effectively shutting Kurt up. "Thank you, now as I was going to say," he trailed off and crashed his lips to Kurt's much to the smaller boys delight. Kurt was going off on Dave again about hiding in the closet and pulling him back in as well and it always seemed to work like this. Kurt would bring up big boy issues and Dave would retaliate with kisses knowing full well Kurt wouldn't fight back. When Dave finally pulled back he looked his lover over and smiled back when Kurt smiled to him. Suddenly Kurt held up a dvd case with a dvd that read "Kurt Hummel:Slut" on it and Dave paled.**

**The knife was in his body before he had time to think about it, in his side, in his stomach, in his chest. Kurt stabbed fifteen times and watched as his lover died on the dirty floors of the McKinely locker room. Dave didn't even fight back; he didn't have the chance to and the last thing he saw was the boy he betrayed and his glass eyes.**

Kurt opened his eyes to stare at the white ceiling. It was a dream that Kurt was all too familiar with and he wondered why he still cared. That's why he continued to dream about it right? He rolled onto his side and stretched his body out before curling back into a ball, his normal sleeping position and staring at the night sky though his un-curtained window. He thought about how he had planned Dave's murder just like this a month ago and how he cried-oh how he cried- thinking that a boy he was learning to love would do that to him. Well, he showed Dave didn't he? Messing with Kurt Hummel was a very bad idea. Kurt's only regret it seemed now was that he hadn't found out who filmed there first sexual encounter, which the court oh so nicely deemed as "rape". In fact it wasn't anything Kurt didn't ask for. He asked for hard and rough. He wanted something that Puck wouldn't give him. Puck took his sex with Kurt slow because he'd never been with another man. Kurt knew Dave better than that. Kurt was Puck's experimental phase and he knew Dave had gone through it already. The hockey player was just too curious.

So, it was the videographer's fault it wasn't made clear and Kurt was to tired of everything at that point to correct his lawyer. So what if he lied; Dave was dead and there was nothing that the court could have done to bring him back. Maybe that's why he had this reoccurring dream, because he felt bad for lying to the court or maybe he was just still pissed Dave had let someone film it.

Most likely that last.

-break-

The bags under his eyes told the nurse that she'd have to up the anty on his sleeping medicine but that didn't concern Blaine too much. His body would become accustomed to the larger intake of sleeping pills and he'd be forced onto more milligrams of the medicine. Maybe one day they'd up it too much and he just wouldn't wake up. _You'd like that dad_, he glared at the page of his book before him and his fingers wrinkled, crumpling the edges some.

"It's not going to eat you," Jeff's rich voice floated into his ear before his partner in crime, Nick, plopped himself onto Blaine's lap. Jeff pulled the book from Blaine's grasp and tossed it over onto a coffee table before settling up close to Blaine on the sofa, "but we might."

"You'll have to save me till after our group discussion," Blaine told them and his eyes crinkled around the edges. Almost two years of being with these guys, maybe less since Jeff and David came in much later, made him feel so relaxed around the boys.

"We know," Nick smiled, "besides, they fed us pancakes today so we're stuffed."

Blaine's stomach growled in annoyance but he figured his meeting with the doctor couldn't have been put off.

Blaine sometimes wondered why his father even kept him in Dalton and donated to it with suspicious frequency. He figured it was to actually keep him in the building, away from society so that his father could deny ever having a son. As Blaine later released, that was the reason why most of the boys here never left; they were forced out into the world at the age of twenty-one. The last guy who'd gotten out, Wes, was rumored to have driven to his mothers and poisoned her to take over her company. He too donated to Dalton: Reform School for Troubled Youth. Blaine still heard from him. Wes had been in their group and he wrote letter to all of them. He'd even offered them jobs for when they turned twenty-one. Blaine knew David was going to take it since he was twenty and only a month away from twenty-one. Blaine had a few more years about him but he wasn't sad, he had Jeff and Nick and Jon.

All Blaine knew was that no one was really "fixed" when they left. Dalton tried to put emphasis into recovery and blending them in with the outside world but it was more of a boarding house until their existence was forgotten. He could deal with that. He didn't want to remember his father either.

"Your worst nightmare today boys," there instructor said as the six boys sat in their chairs.

"Your face," Jon accused and had the boys laughing. The instructor didn't look too amused but Kurt saw that he did have a smirk on his face.

"That one doesn't count Jon," the older man replied, "I meant outside of Dalton. Nick, you first."

Nick seemed to ponder this for a moment. "Clowns, hands down."

Kurt would have snorted about how cheesy that was, but clowns were damn scary.

Jeff, who was pondering while Nick spoke said, "Being trampled by horses."

Kurt figured being stampeded to death wasn't fun. Death in general wasn't fun he figured.

Blaine shrugged, "don't know, ghosts or some shit."

"You don't have a fear," the instructor asked.

"Nothing that I've come into contact with, no."

The instructor let it go and moved to Kurt. He blinked. His worst nightmare… He had a lot of those before he discovered that he could kill. Now it just seemed too easy. Scared of snakes? Kill them. Scared of spiders? Kill Them. Sacred of being pummeled into the ground? Stab them. "I don't know."

The instructor shook his head, "not everyone is getting away with that excuse."

"Sir, I-I don't know. What's there to be scared of when you can just kill everything you're scared of?"

The room was silent and most the guys were looking at him with awed expression, save Nick who nodded. The instructor looked mildly stunned. When he regained some dignity the instructor wrote something down on the clipboard in front of him and moved to David. Kurt sighed knowing he'd see the lovely doctor after this.

-break-

The meds made his dreams unbearable, instead of Dave, he was killing everyone else close to him; he was killing Burt, Carole, Puck, Mercedes... He resorted a few times to throwing the pills back up but the nurses had caught on quickly and stopped him. Now he was the one waking screaming, not the messed up kid two doors down. He went on like this for a while before he attacked someone else in a fit of rage. They removed him from the pills quickly and dosed him with higher sleeping medication.

-break-

"You're not really into the whole group discussion thing are you," Blaine asked over the cafeteria table and Kurt took a moment to process. Lunch with Blaine was usually spent in the corner of the table while he kept up with Nick and Jeff's conversation. "I mean, you never elaborate on anything."

"I elaborated on my worst nightmare-which, by the way, didn't turn out so well for me." Kurt stuffed more lettuce from his salad, flashing the returned knife scare he'd received from his second attack, into his mouth while Blaine was happily munching on fries. Blaine shrugged, agreeing. "Does it matter that I don't like group discussion?"

"No, it's just- I guess it's weird for us, we're used to telling each other everything. I think Mr. Hammlin forgets that you haven't really sworn alliance with the Warblers yet."

"The Warblers," Kurt asked.

"We sing," Blaine told him, "and the president of Dalton called us the 'song bird group' because he forgot the actual group number- I think it something like GH-2502-89I. We just up'ed the name to the 'Warblers'."

Kurt smiled, "I used to sing," he said but he hadn't done it since he got here a month ago. He'd spoken to his father, who surprisingly brought along his new girlfriend. Kurt was going to have to have a talk about appropriate date places with his father. Carole Hudson, she introduced herself as and Kurt flashed to the only Hudson he knew- the little puppy still growing into his skin on the football team. His father was happy to hear that Kurt was interacting better with other now off the medicine and he promised that they'd leave the Christmas tree to him when he got out. Kurt wanted to say he'd never get out because he'd never be fixed. He'd always be the crazy boy who killed the "perfect" high school boy. "I don't anymore," he finished quietly.

Blaine scuffed, "one never truly quits singing."

"Unless they're dead," Kurt scathed but Blaine didn't flinch.

"Even when dead the wind still carries the soft music of those past."

Kurt stopped and gave Blaine the most outrageous look he had. Blaine continued to eat his french-fries.

Kurt didn't want to ponder those words and if this was some sort of cartoon he assumed he'd be beating back a thinking cloud with a sledge hammer to stop but it wasn't a cartoon and he was thinking about it. Maybe he'd beat Blaine with the sledge hammer instead.

-break-

He stumbled into group discussion Monday. "Most loved today. Jon, please start."

"My mother even though she thinks I'm chemical unbalanced."

Kurt would have loved his mom he was sure.

"My grandmamma, she taught me the ABC's."

Kurt wished he had known his grandparents.

"My baby sister. She cried when I was brought here-wouldn't let go of my pants leg."

He was an only child.

"My mother, she treated me like nothing was wrong."

Something was always wrong. Kurt couldn't love a woman who lived in denial.

_Dave Karofsky. _"My father."

He gave no further explanation. He didn't think he was ready to say his name again. David jumped into the silence saying his father too, was a big part in saving his ass.

-break-

**Fingers traced through his hair and humming- sweet familiar humming- filled his ears. His mother's voice was calming stopping him from crying. He wanted to call out to her but she didn't seem too bothered to just sit there and stroke his head like she did when she had been alive. She used to do this when he had nightmares and it burned through him to scream that her baby boy was a murder and that this was no nightmare. He couldn't though. He only wished she wasn't angry at him for the way his life had turned out. He wondered if it made her sad that he'd upset his father so much.**

**She suddenly stopped and looked down at him with a smile and opened her mouth. She was saying words but he couldn't hear. He could only guess what they were.**

_**Be brave sweet prince.**_

Soft hand were resting on him when he awoke and he cracked an eye open to see Blaine's smiling face. "Group discussion time."

"Will you sing today," Kurt asked his voice muffled with sleep as he climbed out of the chair he'd passed out in. He'd have to check to see if there dicks drawn on his face, but later.

"I think I can get the guys to do something," Blaine promised. Kurt grabbed his hand and stopped the boy from walking away. "What's the-"

"Do you all know Toora Loora?"

Blaine's face seemed to relax at that. "My mother sang that to me when I was younger."

Kurt squeezed his hand and Blaine returned it, "so did mine," he whispered.

When they both stumbled into group discussion with the both of them singing the boys laughed and Mr. Hammlin smiled. Maybe not only one, but two of his patients go. "First Love boys."

"Daisy Duke," Jeff called out.

The table was laughing again.

"That's nice Jeff, but I was going to ask Kurt to go first."

Kurt pondered before answering. "His name was David Karofsky and he made my life a living hell…" So what if Kurt was about to blab his whole sob story; the sweet humming of his mother was with him and when he called his father later tonight he'd be sure to remind him that he loved him and that he'd see him on Christmas and that he found a sweet boy named Blaine. He was sure his father would flip-one deliquent was enough right?


End file.
